Sidetrack
by kazooband
Summary: Sharon Agathon wakes up in the one place she never wanted to be again.


Disclaimer: Me? Own Battlestar Galactica? I wish.

Author's Note: This is my first go at a Battlestar Galactica story and a one shot, unless I get a great surge of inspiration. I hope you enjoy it.

Timeframe: Right after "The Eye of Jupiter."

Ships: Athena/Helo

Spoilers: Everything up to "The Eye of Jupiter."

**Sidetrack**

A flash, something she'd never be able to describe, hardly be able to remember because before she'd been able to take a good look it was gone, replaced by nothing, then a rush of lights and sounds, too overwhelming, too many to distinguish. She felt like she'd forgotten how to breathe, like she'd never learned how, and wondered if this was what dying felt like. Then she realized that this was what if felt like to be reborn.

She forced one breath of air into her burning lungs, then another, and the second came easier. With them, reality came swimming back to her, and with reality came harsh realization: she was lying naked in a pit of liquid slime, surrounded by a dark room, half a dozen human faces that didn't belong to humans, and one Centurion.

"Welcome back," said a Three in a voice that that exuded no welcome at all.

"I am Sharon Agathon," she said, her voice still raspy from her rebirth, "call sign Athena…"

"We know who you are," claimed the hard voice of a Number Six, Caprica Six, Sharon deduced.

"What do you want with me?" Sharon demanded, sitting up and automatically crossing her arms over her chest. It was only then that she realized that the dog tags she'd worked so long and hard to earn had died along with her old body.

"We did not bring you on board by choice," Six replied.

"Should have told the raiders that," Sharon spat, "maybe then they wouldn't have shot me out of the sky." For Sharon was beginning to remember her final moments: the battle over the algae planet, the shot that hit her starboard engine, the blast that sent her tumbling before she could react, the flame that reached her fuel line, the way her Viper exploded taking her with it.

"Noted," one of the Cavils grunted.

"Who won?" Sharon demanded.

Six leaned close and whispered, "We did."

A shock of fear coursed through her and several of the surrounding Cylons seemed amused at her reaction.

"But, the Galactica, the fleet," Sharon breathed, trying to force her voice under control.

"Once we had what we came for it was decided that we should allow the humans to destroy themselves. They're no longer your concern," Cavil explained.

Sharon knew she couldn't allow herself a sigh of relief at these words, so she instead asked, "You have the Eye of Jupiter?"

"It's being studied as we speak," Six replied.

Sharon chose to hide her unease by changing the subject.

"What's it here for?" she asked, nodding to the Centurion that had been standing impassive in the background. She could think of few reasons why they would have ordered its presence, especially since she realized that her first thought, that it was there to kill her, was quite absurd: she'd only be reborn again.

"It's there to make sure you behave," Six explained cooly.

"And if I don't?" Sharon spat.

"Then it will kill you, and you'll be boxed," Six replied.

Sharon had been ready with another retort, but she closed her mouth when the second part of Six's statement sank in. Before Sharon parted ways with the Cylons, boxing had been an idle threat, the Cylon equivalent of a schoolyard jest, but though the assembled Cylons seemed far from unanimous on the matter, it was obvious that they'd boxed their fellows before, and she was exactly the sort to make them do it again. Until a moment ago she'd felt reassured by the fact that she could never die, now she knew the next time she did she would cease to exist.

"Do we have an understanding?" Six asked.

Sharon nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Get up," Six commanded.

Obediently, Sharon struggled to her feet, slipping slightly on the slime as she did. She paused a moment, still naked and shivering as the slime rapidly cooled against her skin, but no one offered her a robe or even a towel, and she knew better than to ask for one, for they'd only laugh and say she'd been among humans too long.

Sharon stepped carefully out of the vat and watched in surprise as Six indicated that she should follow the Centurion. For a moment she felt a thrill of excitement: Centurions couldn't distinguish individuals of the same model, she could trade places with another Eight anywhere along the way and the Centurion would be none the wiser, but it was not to be, for, as she followed the Centurion, Six and Cavil fell in behind her.

Sometimes, when she forgot herself in the long winding hallways onboard the Galactica, Sharon would look up and see a wide expanse of beach instead of the grey walls, though she would usually force herself to stop projecting as soon as she realized she'd started. She didn't necessarily want to be human, but she did want to be accepted by them and knew that the ability to project was one more thing that separated them. It was difficult, then, for her to hide her surprise when she looked at the sterile black hallways of the Basestar and saw the hallways of the Galactica, and even more difficult for her to hide her disappointment when she realized that this was the dream and not the events in the rebirthing chamber.

Unbidden, the Galactica in her mind rearranged itself to match the layout of the Basestar. Every so often she looked to one side or another and caught a glimpse inside of other rooms, where Cylons were working or sleeping. Sharon idly wondered whether she'd see Hera and nearly slipped in one of the puddles of slime she'd been leaving when the impact of her own thought hit her. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that Hera must be here somewhere: Boomer had seen her, Boomer was the reason Sharon knew Hera was alive, and Boomer had come on board the Galactica with D'Anna and Cavil, the same Cavil who was delicately avoiding the trail of slime Sharon was leaving in her wake.

An increasing number of Cylons were gathering around them to laugh and jeer at the traitor as she past, but Sharon was so preoccupied that she hardly noticed. Hera was here, she had only to find her. If she asked Six or Cavil where Hera was, would they answer? Sharon had to work to hide her grin at the thought. She was still feeling giddy when the Centurion stopped inside of Galactica's brig and she blinked and saw a wide room instead, all black except for a strip of white light that ran along the walls.

"Wait here," Six said as she and Cavil turned to go, leaving the Centurion behind. It stood stock still by the entrance, the only moment in its single red eye, which appeared as a dancing light on the obsidian floor in front of it.

Sharon hardly acknowledged them. There was a robe waiting for her on the floor in the middle of the room and she made her way to it, attempting to shuck the slime from her skin as she went. There were a few differences to this body that she hadn't noticed before: her hair was longer and she'd lost the scar form when Karl shot her in the shoulder back on new Caprica, but mostly it felt different, like her muscles no longer responded in the ways she expected. Still, she mused as she donned the robe, she had other things to worry about, such as how to find Hera and get back to Galactica.

As she settled herself in a corner to wait and think, she couldn't stop her own surge of excitement: after all this time she'd finally get to see Hera. However, her optimism was soon tempered. Galactica was broken and defeated somewhere and the Cylons had the Eye of Jupiter. Things couldn't have gone much worse if they'd tried, and, suddenly Sharon couldn't help but wonder if it might have turned out better if she hadn't died, if it would have made a difference in the battle if she'd been able to keep fighting.

Karl's voice came back to her, angry and worried in the final moments when all the pilots were rushing to their vipers, just after the Cylons called Admiral Adama's bluff with the atomic weapon. He wanted to know why she was going, said she was a Raptor pilot and a good one and ought to stick with that because Boomer hadn't seen combat from the inside of a Viper in years and Sharon never had. Sharon had brushed past him saying she was just as qualified as anyone else, that Galactica was going up against four Basestars and needed all the pilots it had, and to trust her, but now hours later after she'd been shot down and woken up on a Basestar she wondered if that was really what she'd meant.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Hera since Admiral Adama admitted that she was still alive, what if some part of her brain had formulated this plan to retrieve the child without her? What if she'd meant to get shot down? To take the risk of waking up on the right Basestar and not get boxed outright? Could she have avoided that hit? Bailed out in time? What if she'd been flying a raptor with an ECO who couldn't be reborn? Would she still have let herself die?

It was all too much to think about sitting down, so she stood up and started pacing back and forth across the room, sometimes convincing herself that this was all a coincidence, sometimes painfully sure that she'd planned it all from the beginning.

Time had no meaning in the room, the only way to tell how much had elapsed was by her stomach, and she was somewhere between hunger and starvation when she heard approaching footsteps. A moment later, Sharon looked up and saw another Eight, Boomer, standing next to the Centurion.

"Come to question me," Sharon muttered.

"Hera's still sick," Boomer said.

"Is that the reason you came in here?" Sharon pressed, breath catching in her throat.

"You're lucky they didn't box you," Boomer continued. "The Cavils wanted to, and some of the Dorals, but they were overruled. The rest of them think you'll be willing to give us information about the fleet."

"What do you want?" Sharon demanded. A moment later a quiet but insistent warning klaxon filled the air around them.

"You're lucky they didn't box me," Boomer said, and she pulled out a weapon and shot the Centurion in the head. It fell heavily to the floor.

"What?" Sharon asked uncomprehendingly.

"Come on," Boomer replied, grabbing the sleeve of Sharon's robe and pulling her out of the room.

"Where are you taking me?" Sharon demanded.

"To Hera," Boomer replied, pausing momentarily to see if the next hallway was clear. "I created an overload in the FTL, that's what that warning is. The Hybrid should be throwing a fit. We shouldn't meet anything but Centurions."

After that it was almost all Sharon could do to keep her feet while Boomer guided her through the complicated hallways of the Basestar. They arrived eventually at what looked at first to Sharon like Galactica's sick bay, but was in fact a room not unlike the one she'd just left the with addition of a white cradle.

Sharon rushed immediately to the cradle and found a curly haired toddler sleeping uneasily inside. Laughing and crying at the same time, she reached out to touch her daughter for the first time in over a year. Hera woke up to the hand running through her hair and gazed up at Sharon with dark eyes.

"Hello Hera," Sharon said softly. "I'm your mom."

She knew that to Hera she must look no different than any other Eight who'd taken care of her, and nothing like the woman who'd raised her on New Caprica, but she thought, or maybe just hoped, that she was a glimmer of recognition in the child's eyes as she lifted her into her arms.

"Raiders are this way," Boomer said.

Sharon was so preoccupied with Hera, who, she was beginning to realize, did feel a bit feverish, that only her surprise brought her attention back to her companion. In spite of Boomer's help, Sharon had half expected her to dangle Hera in front of her, and then force her back to her cell.

Still feeling amazed, Sharon followed Boomer back through the hallways, but they hadn't made it very far when another thought occurred to her.

"What about the Eye of Jupiter? I have to steal it back."

"You can't," Boomer replied as they turned another corner.

"Watch me," Sharon said.

"You don't understand," Boomer said, turning to look at her. "The Eye of Jupiter isn't in the temple; the Eye of Jupiter is the temple."

"We're still orbiting the planet?" Sharon breathed.

"D'Anna and Baltar think they've nearly solved it," Boomer confirmed.

Wordlessly, Sharon brushed past Boomer, raced to the nearest data console, and plunged her free hand into the water, thanking God and Gods for the way Cylons trusted each other with information. Before long she'd found the data on the Eye of Jupiter, downloaded it, and returned to following Boomer to the Raiders.

Boomer climbed into the first one they came across and fired three shots into its brain. The sound startled Hera, who started crying and waking up the surrounding Raiders.

"Get in," Boomer commanded as soon as she'd pushed out the dead brain.

"Wait," Sharon said. "Why are you helping us?"

"I was a Colonial once," Boom replied.

"Are you coming with us?" Sharon asked.

"I don't belong with the fleet anymore," Boomer said sadly. "Go."

With a final nod of thanks, Sharon climbed into the Raider with Hera and started figuring out the controls. It didn't take long, for not only did she have an innate understanding of Raiders, but she'd studied Starbuck's notes on the Raider she'd captured just after the attack on the colonies. A few minutes later she'd flown clear of the Basestar and jumped away before they could realize that a Raider had deployed without permission and send more after her.

Fortunately, Galactica and the fleet were still at the emergency jump coordinates and Sharon allowed herself to breathe easy for the first time in hours at the sight of them. Still, her ordeal was not over yet, for she was flying a Cylon Raider and had no means to tell them she was friendly.

Even through the narrow eye of the Raider, she could tell that Galactica had come off very much the worse in the fight against the Basestars and she couldn't help but marvel at the tenacity of the old bucket when two vipers approached to engage her. Knowing she'd be hard put to outmaneuver two seasoned Viper pilots, Sharon opted for a different approach and came to a full stop. A second later, the two Vipers whizzed past but did not fire. They much had sense that something was amiss because instead of taking a second pass they arranged themselves in formation around her.

Fifteen minutes later they'd landed in one of Galactica's flight pods and the Raider was lowered to the flight deck. Working quickly, Sharon cut the Raider's engines and hid Hera out of sight before opening the hatch with her foot and slipping outside.

She hadn't been expecting a warm welcome, but she also hadn't expected to be greeted by a dozen guns, all wielded by Marines.

"I am Sharon Agathon," she said, lifting her hands above her head. "Call sign Athena."

"Athena's dead," one of the Marines grunted.

"I was reborn on a Basestar," Sharon explained. "I escaped."

"How do we know you're not another Cylon pretending to be Athena?" another Marine demanded.

"You don't," Sharon replied.

"You're coming to the brig," a third Marine said, advancing with heavy handcuffs.

"Wait," Sharon said, reaching slowly back into the Raider. Twelve fingers tensed on twelve triggers, but Sharon did not desist. A moment later she found Hera and pulled her out. Not one of the Marines managed to hide his surprise at this development.

"What's this?" one asked, shifting his grip on his weapon, but it couldn't be plainer that he'd lost all desire to fire it.

"Her name is Hera, she's my daughter," Sharon replied. "Karl Agathon is her father. President Roslin will recognize her. Do what you want with me, but make sure nothing happens to her."

For a moment no one moved, then Racetrack, who'd happened to be on the flight deck and listening in, stepped forward and said, "I'll get her to Helo."

"She's sick, someone needs to take her to Doc Cottle," Sharon added, passing Hera over gratefully, if a little apprehensively. One of the Marines detached himself from the rest and followed Racetrack as she carried Hera out of the flight deck. 

Once they were safely out of the way, Sharon returned her attention to the Marines, held her arms out for the cuffs, and said, "You can take me to the brig now."

Like on the Basestar, Sharon had no idea how long she remained locked in the brig. All the company she had was the guard, who refused to even tell her the time. She wasn't given adequate clothes to wear instead of her robe, nor offered a shower to remove the slime that had congealed in her hair. They hadn't even taken off her handcuffs.

It was like the Marine said: they had no reason to believe that she really was Sharon Agathon, the Eight who'd deserted the Cylons for her love of Karl Agathon. She no longer had her dog tags, and there was not a recognizable mark on her body that would distinguish her from any other Eight. All she had was her word and her memories, and they were sure to trust neither. A Marine who'd come in to question her about the Cylons and the Basestar certainly hadn't. Sharon couldn't help but wonder, if she'd realized this would happen while she was still on the Basestar, would she have left?

Sharon was still desperately pondering that when the door leading to the hallway swung open and Karl stepped inside.

"Have you see Hera? Is she okay?" Sharon asked immediately, rushing to the bars.

"She'd beautiful," Karl replied, taking her hand. "Racetrack took her to go see Cottle."

"That's good," Sharon breathed.

"I can hardly believe it's you," Karl said, gazing into her eyes.

"Most people don't," Sharon said bitterly.

"I do," Karl replied.

And he did, she had only to look at him to know it. Even if no on else believed her, all of a sudden it felt like enough that he did, that he knew her well enough to distinguish her from another woman who looked and sounded and acted the same.

Without warning, all the stress of however many days it had been since she sat down in that Viper and joined that battle over the algae planet came crashing down on her and there was nothing she could do to stop the flow of tears. Gently, Karl pulled her closer to the bars and wrapped his arms around her as best he could, separated as they were.

Sharon didn't know how long they stayed like that, with her crying freely and him rubbing her back and offering soft assurances until she could cry no more.

Finally, Sharon pulled away and wiped awkwardly at her tearstained cheeks with her cuffed hands. It was only then that she realized she'd forgotten something important, perhaps the most important thing that happened that day, but that somehow got shunted aside by everything else that had happened.

"I need to talk to Admiral Adama."

"What for?" Karl asked, surprised.

"The Cylons know the way to Earth, and so do I."


End file.
